


Don't Follow

by Wrenlet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-11-20
Updated: 2005-11-20
Packaged: 2018-10-25 11:12:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10763097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wrenlet/pseuds/Wrenlet
Summary: Dean left for a reason.





	Don't Follow

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://oxoniensis.livejournal.com/profile)[oxoniensis](http://oxoniensis.livejournal.com/)'s [Vice Versa challenge](http://oxoniensis.popullus.net/vv/index.htm), to Lyric Prompt #2 (included below). AU, especially given I wrote it before _Home_ *cheesy grin* Thanks to [](http://missmollyetc.livejournal.com/profile)[missmollyetc](http://missmollyetc.livejournal.com/) for beta reading!
> 
>  _But right now  
>  Everything you want is wrong,  
> And right now  
> All your dreams are waking up,  
> And right now  
> I wish I could follow you..._ (Honey and the Moon - Joseph Arthur)

If he'd thought about it, Dean might have expected any of a number of people to be pounding on his door at noon on a Saturday. His brother was not one of them.

If he'd known... he bit off a curse, let the latch of the peephole swing silently shut and his forehead thump not-so-silently on his side of the door. Which just made Sam pound on -his- side that much harder.

"Dean! I know you're in there, damn it, open up! I -need- you!"

"Dean?"

Oh, fantastic. Dean paused with his hand on the dead bolt and shot a look back at his bedroom doorway. Angela was leaning against the doorjamb, one of his sheets artfully draped around her otherwise naked body.

"It's nothing, Ange, go back to bed."

"Doesn't sound like nothing to me."

Sure enough, Sam had started threatening to yell until someone called the cops or some shit, and this was going to suck in at least a hundred different ways but Dean didn't see a way out of it. He flipped off the dead bolt and jerked the door open.

"I -told- you, I gave at the office."

Sam obviously hadn't expected Dean to give in so quickly; he still had his fist up for another assault on the now-absent door and the look of surprise on his face, well, Dean had seen that look a time or two before. Usually on a blow-up doll. In any other situation it'd be pretty damn funny.

"Who's that--"

"Who's this?"

Oh, hell no. No introductions. "He's a friend and she's leaving."

That drew protests from both sides, and Dean tossed his hands up in front of the two of them, palms out.

"No, shut up. I mean it: you, couch; you, clothes."

Sam shot him a sullen glare, never a good look on him, and obediently headed for the living room. Angela's pout was much sexier, but no more effective. Dean realized he'd need more than a robe on to face his brother, and followed Angela into the bedroom.

"He's cute--"

"And off limits." There went that pout again, but this was seriously non-negotiable. "Old college buddy, he probably needs to borrow money."

Dean couldn't quite pin down why he was so reluctant to admit to her who Sam really was, other than that he'd kept his family life strictly separate from the office and anything related to it.

"Mmmm, still." Angela shrugged into her bra, and started shimmying her skirt up her slender legs. "He's got that lean, young look to him... maybe I could loan him a couple hundred. Even if he never paid me back, I think it'd be worth it."

Dean occasionally had his doubts on whether fucking his boss's mistress -- while a hell of a lot of fun -- was one of the smartest moves he could have made, career-wise. But having the boss's mistress salivating over his little brother like he was an all-night buffet was definitely... skeevy. And here Dean had thought "paralegal" was as low on the totem pole as Angela would go.

"Nah, it really wouldn't. And if you don't hurry, you'll be late for your tennis lessons."

Angela wrinkled her nose; Dean knew she hated that she'd never fooled him into thinking he was her "only" affair on the side, but the sex was good and Dean had never given her any crap about ditching the tennis pro or any of the other men, so it rarely came up.

"That sounds a lot like an order."

"I thought you liked it when I order you around." He'd pulled on a pair of pajama pants and a shirt, and caught her around the waist for a kiss.

"Mmmmm... then maybe I'll forgive you. This time." She toyed with the drawstring of his pants, twirling it around her index finger until he pulled her hand away. "Killjoy."

"Seriously, Angela. Time to go." He ushered her out and towards the door, hoping Sam had stayed put on the couch like a good boy.

Just as she was leaving, she called out brightly, "Bye!" and tossed a little wave of her fingers towards the living room. Sam's head didn't even come up, and it occurred to Dean as he shut and relocked the door that his brother really looked like shit. Haunted, and haggard, and pretty much like he'd driven all night through some of the more charming parts of hell to get there.

Dean detoured through the kitchen before approaching Sam on the couch, and then handed him a bright yellow bottle.

Sam stared at it, confused. "... Sun Fizz?"

"It's got vitamins and minerals. Drink up." Dean sat partly on the arm of the couch and waited until Sam had cracked the top and taken a couple of long drinks. "Now tell me what it is you need so badly."

Sam swallowed hard. "Dad's... missing."

"'Kay. Now tell me what's new about that."

"He..." Sam glanced up at him, just for a split second, looking pretty damned guilty under those long bangs. "We had a fight, okay? I wanted to-- to stay, and he started in with this really crazy shit about a curse. I didn't believe him, it was -nuts- what he was saying! And he left me there...."

Sam got more and more visibly shaken as he spoke, and Dean felt a tightening in his chest like a cold, clammy hand closing around his heart. He slid down onto the couch next to Sam, took the half-empty bottle and set it on the coffee table. Sam buried his face in his hands and Dean knew.

"There was a girl. Someone you... liked."

Sam's shoulders shook, and his voice was muffled against his palms. "He told me we were cursed, Dean, all the Winchesters. He said it's why Mom died and I told him that was bullshit, he was just trying to keep me... keep...."

The first sob came out so hoarse, Dean knew Sam had been holding this back for days. He wrapped an arm around his brother's shoulders and let Sam fold into him, his body wracked with grief.

Dean could fill in the details himself. Sam hadn't believed their father, he'd thought it was all a lie meant to keep Sam from giving up the hunt the way Dean had. So instead, Dad had taken off and Sam, sweet Sam, had stayed behind with his girl only to see her die in front of him, in blood and flame.

Sam keened against Dean's shoulder, and Dean stroked his hair. He didn't say anything to him, because nothing he said would be true: it wasn't okay, he couldn't make it better, and Sam probably wouldn't be fine ever again.

\-----

It had taken Sam a good half an hour to cry himself out, and pretty much as soon as he was done he had dropped into an exhausted sleep. Dean had briefly considered trying to get him off the couch and into bed, but Sam had already been taller when Dean left and four years had packed some serious muscle onto his frame. Instead, Dean had made Sam as comfortable as possible where he was and then gotten to work.

The first call turned out pretty much as expected: "This is John Winchester, I can't be reached. If this is an emergency, call my son Sam--"

Dean clicked off the line before Dad's voice got to Sam's cell number. And that answered question two, as well; Dad could be a single-minded jerk sometimes, but if he'd known Sam's girlfriend was dead there was no way he'd be directing calls to him.  
  
So Dean settled in to do some serious digging. By the time Sam woke up, Dean had taken a shower, had a half pot of chili sitting warm on the stove, and the top sheet of a legal pad filled with contact names and numbers and possible sightings.

Sam leaned against the kitchen doorway, watching him. He still looked like hell, with his eyes all puffy and red, but at least he didn't look like he was about to topple over. He cleared his throat uncertainly. "I'm sorry...."

"Don't mention it, bro."

Sam just nodded, stepped into the kitchen and swung a chair around, straddling it. "What's all this?"

"Leads."

Sam blinked. "Leads? How'd you..."

"Friends in low places. Let's just say I've made a little hobby out of tracking you two down, and it's a damn good thing. Who'd you think bailed you out in Phoenix?"

Another slow blink. "Dad didn't tell me... well, I guess he wouldn't. You really think we can find him?"

"Not we. You." Dean swiveled the pad around and pushed it across the table. "Some of these are more reliable than others, I've got them marked--"

Sam cut him off, incredulous. "What the hell do you mean, 'me'? You're coming with me, you -have- to!"

"No, I do -not-." Dean snapped his mouth shut, jaw clenching, and took a deep breath. "I can't just go haring off 'cause Dad's in a snit and doesn't know you need him."

"But what if I need -you-, Dean? I can't do this alone, I can't -face- what's out there without--" Sam had stood up and was leaning on the table, looming over him.

That had -always- pissed Dean off, from the first damned time Sam had figured out that yes, he was taller than his big brother now, and this time it snapped Dean's hold on his temper completely. He stood up and shoved the table at Sam, forcing him to stagger backwards, and roared, "You can and you will!"

His yell bounced off the walls of the kitchen, the gleaming stove, and Sam's face paled. Dean could feel the heat in his own face, the blood pounding in his ears and this was dangerous, too damned dangerous to let Sam get him worked up like this.

Dean turned on his heel and stormed out of the kitchen. "Fuck this shit."

"What the... where are you going?"

Sam was almost pleading with him and Dean knew this wasn't fair to him, with everything he'd been through in the last week, but Dean was pretty damn sure that if he didn't leave right that minute they'd both regret it.

"Out." He'd dressed after his shower, well enough to suit his needs, so he only paused long enough to pull a jacket out of the hall closet. "You can be here when I get back or not, brother, your choice. But this subject is -closed-."

Dean only dared to look at Sam once before he left -- a split-second flash of hurt, of blatant need on his brother's face before Dean pulled the door shut firmly behind him.

\-----

Dean had only been in the club long enough for a stiff drink and a half-dozen quick cruises before he realized he had an unwanted shadow.

Of -course- Sam had followed him, Dean thought he probably should have fucking expected that. Well, he hoped Sam got a good eyeful, at least. He cocked his head at his dance partner -- shirtless, young, hot as hell -- crooked a finger through his belt loops and tugged him towards the back room. He could feel Sam's eyes on him as they passed, and smirked. Sam might have forgotten, but his big brother really did swing both ways.

Dean's partner was a hell of a kisser, between his mouth and the alcohol Dean had almost forgotten he was being tailed until a hand landed on his shoulder.

"Dean."

Oh, hell no. No way around it, Dean was going to have to deal with this. He broke from the kiss and gave the man an apologetic grin, "Sorry, pal."

The man shrugged, and wandered off in search of less... complicated company.

"What the hell is this?" Sam hissed at him. "I'm -begging- you for your help, and you run off to go get laid?"

Dean's anger stirred again, low in his belly. "It seemed like the thing to do. Why, are you offering?"

... fucking hell. He shouldn't have had that drink, and if he was smart he'd get as far away from Sam as possible until he had himself back under control.

Sam was blinking, stunned. "We don't--"

"Leave it. Go."

"But I--"

Dean snapped again, for the second time in an hour, and this time he shoved his brother solidly against the wall. "You, -what-, Sam? I'll tell you what, you don't let--"

He shoved again, hands on his brother's shoulders.

"Things--"

And pinned him there with his body, hips against his brother's thighs.

"Go. Even when you -really- fucking should."

Sam was panting and... God, oh God, he was hard, as hard as Dean.

"We don't do this because I stopped, remember?" Dean leaned in and licked the long line of Sam's jaw, tasting his sweat. "'Cause it was fucked up, and sooner or later Dad would have known."

Sam shuddered, and his hands had come up to Dean's chest but he wasn't pushing him away, he was twisted his fingers in the front of Dean's shirt and Dean knew he'd have to be the one to push, to -make- Sam say no.

"But nobody here knows who we are, Sam, hell nobody in this town even knows I have a brother. I could jack you off right here against this wall and nobody would say a damn thing. Is that what you want?"

Dean watched, waiting for the refusal as Sam closed his eyes, swallowed, licked his dry lips before answering. "Yes."

Oh, fuck. Of all the times for it to slip Dean's mind, that you never, -never- ask a question unless you're sure of the answer. "Oh Jesus, Sammy--"

And Sam cut him off with his mouth, clashing teeth and lips against Dean's until he opened his mouth and damnation was the sweet flavor of his brother's tongue.

This was still the worst idea -ever-. Sam might hate himself later for this, for letting himself forget his dead girl even for one minute, but Dean felt Sam's hand fumbling at the fly of his own jeans and knew there was no stopping now. Dean helped him pop open the buttons, slipped his hand inside Sam's briefs and drank in his startled moan. Dean decided at that moment that, if he really was going to get one more chance to wrap something around his brother's cock, it wasn't just going to be his hand.

Dean pulled his mouth away from Sam's, watched his face as he pulled on his cock once, twice. Sam bit his lower lip, thrust into Dean's hand and tried to lean in to kiss him again, only to watch stunned as Dean sank to his knees. "Oh, God...."

"Just lean back." Dean slid one hand up under Sam's shirt, pushed on his belly and nudged his feet apart until he was good and braced against the wall, and sucked the head of Sam's cock into his mouth.

Sam could only manage to breathe, and pretty erratically, as Dean blew him. His hands skidded over Dean's shoulders, the back of his head, and anything he tried to say was lost to gasps and airy moans. Dean thought it was the hottest thing he'd ever heard. He gripped the backs of Sam's thighs and sucked hard, tongue rubbing along the underside of his brother's dick, and coaxed Sam to thrust against the back of his throat. Sam fisted the cloth over Dean's shoulder, shouted wordlessly and came.

Dean was still nuzzling Sam's spent cock when he realized Sam was trying to pull him up by his shirt. He had his voice back, too, but all he could manage to say was, "Dean... Dean...."

Dean got to his feet. Sam tore at his fly and plunged his hand into Dean's pants.

"Oh, fuck."

Dean leaned heavily on Sam, clinging to his waist and pushing his face against his neck as his brother jerked him off. It was quick, and necessarily messy, and when it was done Dean finally told him the truth, murmuring it into his shoulder.

"This is why I left, Sammy. I always knew what I felt for you, what we did together was wrong but hell, this family's so fucked up as it is, it was hard to stop, even 'cause of Dad." Sam's breath caught, and his arms came up around Dean's back. "But then when he thought I'd gotten old enough Dad told me, he said that anyone I loved might be in danger and it was -you-, Sam. Always you."

Sam was squeezing him, hard, and Dean would swear until the day he died the moisture streaking down his brother's neck was sweat.

"So I can't go with you. I can't be near you... whether it's right or not, it's not safe." Dean swallowed and made himself continue. "I'll give you any help I can, leads, money, everything you need to find Dad. And you -will- find him."

Dean straightened, pulled back enough to look his brother in the eye. "We're Winchesters. Cursed or not, we're stubborn as all fuck."

Sam just looked at Dean for a long minute, studying his eyes, and then nodded. Dean had to lock his knees to keep from sagging in relief... because for all the truth he'd told his brother that night, there were still lies in it.

He didn't dare admit it to Sam -- he could hardly admit it to himself -- but Dean knew deep down, that one day he would wind up out there on the road with his brother again. He just hoped it didn't kill them both.


End file.
